


Flights of Fancy

by Nope



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-19
Updated: 2003-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25784980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Neville goes clubbing.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Kudos: 4





	Flights of Fancy

Neville hadn't been expecting the club to be quite so loud, or so crowded, or for Seamus to slap a drink in his hand and swan off with the first guy who looked even vaguely like Dean. Not that he could really blame Seamus for his little fantasies. After all, Neville had spent the last half-hour staring at a guy who looked a little, a lot like Harry, resplendent in dark eyeliner, too-red lipstick, a silk shirt the transparent side of sheer and black trousers more painted on than worn. Neville sighed and sipped his drink, winced at the too-sweet too-strong taste and, trying not to look, looked.

It wasn't Harry, of course, for all his imagining. Harry wore glasses and his eyes were bottle-glass green, not a bright emerald circle around huge black pupils. Harry's hair was wild and messy, not sharp and shaped and sweat-slicked. Harry moved, on the ground at least, awkwardly in baggy robes, not with that smooth grace, that easy slide of skin and muscle. Harry didn't entwine himself around one red-head while a second pressed up behind, didn't tilt his head, glitter sparkling on his cheeks, to let tongues swipe at his throat. Harry certainly didn't look right at a person across crowded dance floors and smile, or extricate himself from a two-way embrace, ignoring the angry glares, and head towards them, right towards them, oh, god, eyes right on them, shining focus, heat in his smile, or say their names like an open invitation to something intimately obscene.

Neville took a panicked gulp of his drink and choked on it, coughing and spluttering, leaning on the bar for support. He blinked gratefully up through tear blurred eyes as his glass was deftly snagged before he could drop it and a hand helpfully pounded him on his back a few times.

"All right, Neville?"

The hand was still on his back, gently rubbing. "H-harry?"

"Yeah?"

"...Oh." The hand was moving in small circles. Neville tried to think of something to say that wasn't "Am I asleep?"

Harry smiled that slow, hot smile, drawled "Neville" like he was tasting the word.

"Um..."

"I think you should know," Harry murmured in his ear, "I asked Seamus to bring you tonight. I'd hate us to start out under false pretences."

A squeaked "Start?" was all Neville managed as Harry slid closer, pulling Neville around to properly face him. Neville vaguely wandered what had happened to his glass. The bar was a nice dark red wood. Harry was wearing a red and gold bracelet on his left wrist. A cold drop of sweat trickled down the back of his neck and his breathing was really loud in his ears.

"Mm," said Harry, leaning in. "Start."

"This is usually where I wake up," Neville confessed.

He could feel Harry's smile against his mouth, Harry's body pressed against him. Closed his eyes, thought, this isn't happening, and then couldn't think at all, Harry's lips hard against his own, no thought but the crashing unreality of it, the soft sudden weight of it, the deep breathless heat of it, rushing through him, like floating, like flowing, and he couldn't stop the moan that escaped him when it broke. He sighed and opened his eyes, half expecting to see the canopy of his bed, a little thrill of surprise when he saw Harry was still there.

Except ...had Harry always been that much taller than him?

Harry's eyes had darkened further, a fascinatingly shiny black, and it took Neville a moment to realise Harry was angry. Had he done something wrong? Neville tried to ask, but all that came out was a squawk. He flapped his feathers in frustration, then gaped at the wings where his arms should have been, falling over as he tried to reach for them with his clawed feet.

"Nice bird you've pulled, Harry!" someone yelled, and Harry yelled back "you total bastards!"

Neville looked up in time to catch the matched grins and waves before the twins twirled back into the crowd and out of view and thought, oh thank God, sighing in relief. This he knew, was an old hat at.

Harry growled something obscene and then glanced apologetically down at Neville. "Sorry. Should've known better than to borrow lipstick from a Weasley. It'll wear off in a couple of hours."

Neville, musing that there was nothing quite like being transfigured into fowl to bring home the reality of a situation, pecked affectionately at Harry's shoe.


End file.
